The unimaginable horror of being Liz Jones

Liz Jones wallows in more self-pity today with an article that is an insult to anyone who actually works for a living (and no, Liz, scribbling a few inanities a few times a week is not work): ‘Seeking a cosy hostel, for 17 cats, four collies… and me‘ [ link]. She writes:

I don’t think I can take any more bad news. I’ve had my property on the market since last summer without a single offer, and now stamp duty is set to rise by one per cent on Wednesday for properties like mine. This will further dampen the market and make finding a buyer nigh on impossible.

My house, which I worked for 32 years to buy, is now worth less than I paid for it, despite the fact that I’ve spent more than £300,000 of heavily taxed income doing it up.

If I do ever sell, I will have to pay off my mortgage because the Halifax won’t allow me a new one at a new property, which means I will be left with nothing, after 30-plus years on the property ladder.

So, she’ll be left with nothing. She admits that she spent more than £300,000 ‘doing it up’ which is roughly twice the average price of a house in England, and had she wanted to she could have spent that on a very nice property and have been mortgage free. But no, Liz wants to waste her money just so she can moan that she’s worse off than most of society. In order to display the magnitude of her ignorance Jones argues that instead of pursuing her six-figure-salary career she would now be in a better position had she:

just got pregnant as a teenager instead of studying for exams, and applied for a council flat. At least someone else would lag the roof and fix the guttering.

Just a quick reminder about Liz Jones:

  • Back in 2009 in an article titled: ‘I spend money to fill a hole in my soul… now I’m £150,000 in debt’ it was revealed that Jones ‘blew £26,000 on a bat sanctuary in her garden, her toothpaste costs £9 a tube and her chickens have their own homeopathic vet’.
  • It was also revealed that Jones was ‘one of Fleet Street’s highest paid columnists’ – considering Littlejohn is paid over £800,000 a year, Jones is not poor by anyone’s standards.
  • She also states: ‘ake my wedding. Seduced by all those adverts that kept telling me I was ‘worth it’, I thought, damn it, I’m going to have my special day.I employed Robinson Valentine, couturiers to Camilla Parker Bowles, to stitch me a white cashmere trouser suit at a cost of £2,600.

    I spent £480 on a pair of Bottega Veneta heels I couldn’t walk in. I bought my own wedding ring, and one for my husband. Total: £4,000. I even bought my husband’s made-to-measure suit.

    I hired the exclusive, expensive Babington House in Somerset, every single room, and put all my guests up, free of charge. Cost? £20,000, and that didn’t even include breakfast.

    My florist was the one hired every year by Vanity Fair for its post-Oscars party. Cost? £3,000 (my mum paid half).’

  • And this: ‘I have always given people – friends, relatives, colleagues – inappropriate gifts. When a friend had a baby not long ago, I could have got something in cotton from Gap, but oh dear me no. I went for Brora cashmere and spent £600.I asked the parent of my godson what he would like for his birthday. ‘Oooh, a book. An Xbox 360 game’ – I bought him a £530 garden shed.

    When my marriage was in trouble, I didn’t just tell my husband to sod off, I took him on holiday to Mozambique.

    I should have worried when we got there (via business class on two planes, a private jet and speedboat) that Sven-Goran Eriksson and Nancy Dell’Olio’s names were in the guest book. The bill came to £26,000.’

  • And: ‘I have lived without a fridge for two years, but I have just bought one – ooh, it is lovely, a Falcon, in stainless steel with a water dispenser – for £3,000. It seems I am incapable of going to Comet.As for the clothes: a couple of months ago, I spent nearly £4,000 on a Vera Wang dress. I interviewed a member of Girls Aloud the other day, and found out, to my shame, I spend more on clothes and personal grooming a year than she does. A pop star!’
  • And, finally: ‘The other day, I was in Boots buying cotton wool and my special £8.95-a-tube toothpaste, and the assistant said: ‘There is a two-for-one offer on this. I’ll hang on while you go back and get another one.”But I don’t want two,’ I whined. ‘I can’t be bothered to walk back to the aisle and get another one.’ It is that sort of attitude that has proved my downfall.’

Liz Jones has been paid a fortune that she has simply pissed-away because she openly admits she is financially inept – in her latest article she admits she hasn’t opened bank statements for months – yet here she is again, moaning that her life is really hard. She actually imagines that she would be better off as a single, teenage mother living on benefits. She spent more on a bat sanctuary than a year’s median salary in the UK, and she wants sympathy?

So, having wasted her money and racked-up debt living a life most people in the UK can only imagine, she now asks:

I wonder if privately owned, tax-funded hostels will take four collies and 17 cats?

Maybe, Liz, but I don’t think they would want you.

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